I killed Freddie Gray.
25 year old men don’t just die.
25 year old men don’t just fall into a coma and snap their neck and die. 25 year old men don’t just come out the other end of a ride with the police unconscious and not breathing and just die.
But they say Freddie Gray just died. Because between the six officers originally arrested, there was a hung jury, three acquittals and all the other charges dropped… just dropped… we didn’t even try. Because even though the medical examiner ruled Freddie Gray’s death a homicide, Officer Caesar Goodson didn’t kill him. Lt. Brian Rice didn’t kill him. Sgt. Alicia White and Officer Garrett Miller didn’t kill him. Officer Edward Nero and Officer William Porter didn’t kill him.
So who killed Freddie Gray?
I killed Freddie Gray.
*****
On the morning of April 12th, 2015, when Freddie Gray was walking with friends in his neighborhood in Baltimore, I killed him. As Freddie Gray and his friends caught the attention of Baltimore Police, I killed him. As they made eye contact with Freddie Gray, and he ran, I killed him. When, on the 1700 block of Presbury, Freddie Gray surrendered, I killed him. When he asked for his inhaler, and was denied, I killed him. When the officers found a switchblade on him and figured that was enough to charge him, I killed him. When they put leg restraints on him and laid him on the floor of the B.P.D wagon, I killed him.
When something… something we don’t know, something we will never know… happened in the back of that van and Freddie Gray died, it was me. I killed him.
Because 25 year old men don’t just die.
348 miles away, in Greensboro, North Carolina, I had just dropped my son off at school and was probably riding my bike to work. I was probably stopping to get a cup of a coffee, and maybe an almond croissant and that’s when I killed Freddie Grey.
I killed him because I can’t remember what I was doing at 8:30 on April 12th, 2015 while he was dying. I killed him because I don’t have to remember that day.
I killed Freddie Grey when he was 10 years old and I protested the killing of Amadou Diallo and felt like I had done enough. I killed Freddie Grey a year before he died when I wasn’t surprised to see Fergueson on fire. I killed Freddie Grey after he was dead, when I could barely watch the video of Alton Sterling, and when I noticed no one at work had brought up Philando Castile, but I never said his name. I killed Freddie Grey because in the days between murders, I don’t have to think about them. I killed Freddie Grey because in the weeks between protests, I go about my life.
I killed him because I thought that me wanting things to be different was enough.
I killed Freddie Grey because I feel uncomfortable writing this — even now, as I put the words down, I want to retract it all and say that I am different, that just because I am white does not mean I am like the others. I want to say, look at me! I have many black friends, I am raising my son in a community of color, I go to protests, I speak out, I don’t want it to be this way. See, I am a poor, I am a woman, I am a survivor, I am raising a child on my own… But this instinct to defend myself is exactly how I know that I killed Freddie Grey.
I killed Freddie Grey because every time the police come onto my block in the middle of the night, they walk past my black neighbors and come to ask me what happened. I killed Freddie Grey because all the teachers in my high school made suggestions as to where I should go to college. I killed Freddie Grey because I have worked at too many-profits and been a part of too many movements with all-white leadership, and I have accepted those positions and those salaries.
I killed Freddie Grey because my tail light has been out for two months and I have never been pulled over. I killed Freddie Grey because I also carry a switchblade, but I lived past the age of 25. I killed Freddie Grey because I am raising a white child and I have not had to talk to him about what to do with his hands when the police drive up our street. I killed Freddie Grey, because my son can just go on and play.
I killed Freddie Grey because every time I have been arrested, I have come out alive. I killed Freddie Grey because if I was murdered, there would be a murderer.
I killed Freddie Grey because I want to swear it had nothing to do with me. But my whiteness is no alibi.
